"Ha! you don't know my constitution after all, Caudle. I'm not at all the woman I was. I say nothing about 'em, but very often you don't know my feelings. And as we're on the subject, dearest, I have only one favour to ask. When you marry again--now it's no use your saying that. After the comforts you've known of marriage--what are you sighing at, dear?--after the comforts, you must marry again--now don't forswear yourself in that violent way, taking an oath that you know you must break--you couldn't help it, I'm sure of it; and I know you better than you know yourself. Well, all I ask is, love, because it's only for your sake, and it would make no difference to me then-- how should it?--but all I ask is, don't marry Miss Pret--There! there! I've done: I won't say another word about it; but all I ask is, don't. After the way you've been thought of, and after the comforts you've been used to, Caudle, she wouldn't be the wife for you. Of course I could then have no interest in the matter--you might marry the Queen of England, for what it would be to me then-- I'm only anxious about you. Mind, Caudle, I'm not saying anything against her; not at all; but there's a flightiness in her manner--I dare say, poor thing, she means no harm, and it may be, as the saying is, only her manner after all--still, there is a flightiness about her that, after what you've been used to, would make you very wretched. Now, if I may boast of anything, Caudle, it is my propriety of manner the whole of my life. I know that wives who're very particular aren't thought as well of as those who're not--still, it's next to nothing to be virtuous, if people don't seem so. And virtue, Caudle--no, I'm not going to preach about virtue, for I never do. No; and I don't go about with my virtue, like a child with a drum, making all sorts of noises with it. But I know your principles. I shall never forget what I once heard you say to Prettyman: and it's no excuse that you'd taken so much wine you didn't know what you were saying at the time; for wine brings out man's wickedness, just as fire brings out spots of grease. "WHAT DID YOU SAY? "Why, you said this: --'Virtue's a beautiful thing in women, when they don't make so much noise about it: but there's some women who think virtue was given 'em, as claws were given to cats'--yes, cats was the word--'to do nothing but scratch with.' That's what you said. "YOU DON'T RECOLLECT A SYLLABLE OF IT? "No, that's it; when you're in that dreadful state, you recollect nothing: but it's a good thing I do. "But we won't talk of that, love--that's all over: I dare say you meant nothing. But I'm glad you agree with me, that the man who'd tie up his widow not to marry again, is a mean man. It makes me happy that you've the confidence in me to say that. "YOU NEVER SAID IT?